The Purpose
by cursethemoon
Summary: They say everyone had a purpose in life. When I met her, I knew instantly that she was mine. E/C - Modernday.
1. Paganini's Caprice No 24

**A/N: **

**So hello! It has occurred to me that I hadn't written in a while. Phantom in particular. So, here is my first beneath this penname! Please R/R as usual. Sorry about it going a bit slowly - it shall speed up soon, I promise. **

**I only write for your enjoyment so I hope you do! Erik is a little - unhinged? You could say? But, my Christine shall sort him out. **

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><p>"It sounds fine, Erik."<p>

"It _doesn't._"

There came a sigh. "Look, perhaps the middle should go allegretto but – "

"It's all _wrong_! All of it._ Stop _acting like you know what you're talking about. You _don't._" I gasped breathlessly, taking stretched fingers off the piano keys. I felt my face blush with undivided rage; every part of me shook as warm blood rushed through my veins in aggravation. I simmered in the silence, body sweltering and face flushed crimson. It took a few moments, knee deep in the warmth of silence before my anger gradually modulated. I breathed to blanch my face then weakly turned my head towards the man who stood by the doorway of my office.

He offered me a small smile and nodded contentedly.

"I shall give you a minute." He was used to it; my temper was something he knew eased eventually. But it never eased without diminishing all the serenity in me. My fingers didn't stop their shaking as I lowered my liquid gaze and exhaled. By the time I lifted my head, he was gone and I was alone. I worked better alone, I knew. But still the stillness of the room _gagged _me. I considered calling out for my friend to return but found the feeling muted. He was probably downstairs now.

One eye twitched as I returned to the sheet music I admonished only moments ago. My mind was shrieking as I read the notes – their tune playing in my head without the need for a piano to execute them. My fluid gaze fell on my quaking finger as I softly pressed on the first key. The moment I bore down on it – I _knew _it was wrong. _Ping. _The very sound of it made my heart thud in discontent and senselessly I seized the paper – decorated with my nonsensical writing- and shred it into pieces. As I did this, I was not angry (shocking to people who have seen me perform this before) – but _content._ I watched the final, scratched piece dwindle to the carpeted floor.

The whole thing was a crime.

There must not be a trace of it anywhere. "Erik," I heard a voice from behind me.

Unhurriedly, I lifted my head towards the voice. I watched as his eyes absorbed the mound of torn up sheet music on the floor. His face was neutral as he breathed out.

"It was wrong." I stated flatly watching him nod.

For a moment, neither of us moved. And then he gestured towards the clock just above his head over the door frame. I followed his gaze and blinked, slightly taken aback by the time displayed.

_11:45pm_

I had been working for almost eighteen hours straight. And there, on the floor was the by-product of my enslaved hours. "You wouldn't sleep." I remembered now – I had asked Nadir to listen to my music a few hours ago but he had only ascended to ask if I was ready to rest. My eyes widened a little as I stood up and felt my legs weaken. Taking a brief second to recover, I slowly progressed to the far wall where the only window of my room stood solitary. Listless, I pulled back the black curtains that concealed me from day and looked out at the badly-lit street below. It was empty. A question bubbled through my lips and escaped before I could gauge a second thought,

"Can I go outside?"

I asked the older, dark haired man delicately. His eyes looked out at the darkness behind the window and I watched his face furrow with clear aversion. But when they fell on me, I watched him nod. He seemed to have finally realized that I was thirty - not _thirteen._

"Yes, just don't wander – and be careful."

Correct me. He still believes in my youth. My eyes gleamed with slight amusement. Suddenly, I felt like I was being reverted back to a child! The holistic memories of such a period in my life muted my glee and I nodded to assure him. "I will." I agreed and almost as an apologetic gesture, crouched and began to sweep up the fragments of my month's work into my hand.

* * *

><p>As a child, I had always found refuge in wandering.<p>

_Wandering child –_ my mother used to call me as I would return home after my directionless walks. I supposed I could only admit that I am still very much wandering; my paths in life since then had been meaningless, _directionless_ just as it had been when I was youthful. I did not like to drift – but I found that I digressed when I was struck with boredom. Nadir said it was because I had not found my _purpose _in life. He blamed it on the fact that I had not found my vocation – what God had given me as a gift for the years I was serving on Earth.

But my purpose was music. I knew. "Music. _Ha_." I found myself scoffing as the memories of the past month's nightmare loosely entered my solitary reverie. They forced me to compose – yet could a genius compose when he had lost inspiration? I do not believe so. And that was what happened. I had found that more than fifteen music sheets have been torn up in the past four weeks – for nothing. _They _are patient with me yet I know they grow more intolerant as every hour passes.

Impetuous bastards.

They did not understand the _pain _that I suffer. A composer who could not even compose a simple tune? It was like a – like a chicken who could not lay eggs. Or a bird incapable of flying.

I laughed coldly.

Now, I felt purposeless. The only thing in the world that has given me a drop of liberation now failed me. I found myself sighing, shoulders hunched as I repressed the urge to cry. For tears did nothing but upset me more. I did not wish to upset them. But they cannot take something that wasn't _there._ I was empty. Why did they not understand? Lifting my head, I realized I may have meandered too far off my usual path. The streets I normally surveyed were empty by midnight.

This place was bustling with light. I shuffled cautiously where I was and stuck by the shadows. As I peered closer, I began to see small huddles of people – presumptuously conversing with raspy laughter. They all seemed to be pouring out of this one place – _The Rhodos Bar._ I could already imagine the sheer _atrocity _that was occurring in such a place and I found myself turning away with revulsion. But then, I saw a figure cross the street towards it and my icy eyes were stopped. The figure was one that I remembered very clearly and I was certain to my life – I recognized.

_It is her_, my mind whispered melodically as I felt my throat grow instantaneously dry.

It was her, indeed. The angel from that afternoon.

But what was she doing in a place such as this?

* * *

><p>It happened exactly a month ago. Compressed with the urge to find something to drink, I accompanied Nadir to a small bar in the middle of the city. I was edgy, as customs allowed and I drank what I had ordered and requested for me and my colleague to leave instantly. The day always seemed to be cruel to me and I knew it would only take a moment for a man in a mask to become the very effigy of whispers. But then there was a brief introduction and a young woman took the microphone stand at the small stage, far front of the bar. I had been deep in complaint –<p>

'_Nadir, we must leave they shall – '_

But then my words stopped. It wasn't often that I was robbed of words but I was - I was silenced by her beauty. Nadir noted it almost instantly as my eyes fixated on her. He had narrowed his eyes at me – I knew why. He was shockedto see such _amazement _in my eyes for I was one of the most difficult people in the world to astound. And yet she did. By not doing anything. She was quite young yet there was something almost _enigmatic _about the way she looked. The fact that I could not pinpoint her as effortlessly as I could with the rest of the shady figures in the bar almost told me that she was a figure of significance.

I was convinced she was. I found myself moved by her naturalness – her purely uncertain expression as she opened her mouth to sing. It was the most inscrutable – and utterly frustrating feeling I had ever encountered! It was –

Intoxication.

"_Please let her be good." _I found my lips praying as she began to sing and I was met with a flush of disappointment. Her voice was nowhere near as splendid as her appearance. She was not ghastly; her voice however cannot match any of the actors that worked in my theatre. _"It's a shame, Erik yes?" _Nadir teased me lowly as he lifted his glass and chuckled, _"C'est la vie Erik!" _

We left the bar after her song. I attempted to open my mouth to ask Nadir if I may be able to find her but found the urge to _compose _grip me. By the time I rushed through the apartment and lifted the cover of my piano, I was muse-less. It was almost like the flustered – almost _feverish _need to compose faded when I left that bar. I should have returned – returned to find her again but I grew depressed over my work and she was buried beneath the miseries of my status. How could she have been? I didn't understand now. Perhaps, my bleak disposition - as it did with most things - suffocated the almost tantalizing desire that had warped within me in that bar.

But now she had returned and her unpolished perfection passed by my eyes, I found myself overwhelmed. I _had _to see her once more. Just once, and my gaze shall be contented. But do I risk such a filled place? I knew that everyone in that place must be intoxicated if anything and I should get by harmlessly. However, the fear remained. I had to be careful for I was not common like most of them were. I lowered my head. _Perhaps another time._

But then her face flashed in my memory and the imploration was so demanding I had to gasp for air.

_I must know who you are._

Invigorated with my newfound confidence, I crossed the street and made my way unnoticed towards the door of the bar.


	2. Mozart's Piano Concerto No 21

**A/N: More for you. Thanks for the response so far, it's very much appreciated! **

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><p>The darkness was one I did not expect. I had not visited a place such as this for a long time. The moment I entered I knew almost instantly which world I had entered - the <em>desolate <em>one. I knew now why I had not become a frequent visitor to places like this! Because one could detect the loss and loneliness of people who dwelled in here in a heartbeat. The stench of such despondency was stronger than the overwhelming stink of alcohol. And it sickened me. I stuck close to the walls where the lights of the bar barely reached. It was probably an unwise choice considering I was looking for someone but I did not risk being surrounded by the figures that manipulated this hive.

Rhodos looked very similar to a typical bar. But of course as with any adult establishment, there were the extras that one would not see in the daylight bars I took towards. The music that played was sickly and as I looked blankly at the faces, there were some with their mouths pressed on the table – oh, the fools who drank more than they could handle! When would humanity _learn_? Clearly the darkness was there to provide privacy for the ones that sat petulantly with their glasses (the ones plainly mooning about the despair of their common, impoverished lives) but also to draw attention to the meagrely dressed women who danced on the worktop of the bar.

I watched, nauseated by the sight of men who stood beneath scolding the swaying bodies with cuss and drunken slurs. I had never approved of such practices – partly because I did not believe that such entertainment _could _be considered as entertaining, but also because it was clear that the atrociously dressed women looked hardly buoyant about dancing in such a manner. If one was to dance- surely they should dance out of good feeling? I looked away, a little queasy from the lights and felt the whole atmosphere of the place begin to unease me. Perhaps it was the _music_ – or just the revulsion I felt for the place but I was suddenly finding my knees becoming unsteady.

It became clear that I should have stayed obedient to Nadir and had slept when I should have. Chest thundering, I quickly trundled forwards and found myself staring at an open door – a backdoor right at the end. My feet trudged down the pitch black corridor and the horrific music became a fuzzy phase in the background. However, my anxiety remained and I found myself light-headed as I stumbled through the open exit. "God." I managed stiffly as I clutched at my chest, the hit of cold, city air filling my lungs. I knew my heart was still beating an unsteady rhythm and knew only one way to soothe it. To clear my mind – I did one thing.

I sang.

It almost prompted uneasy laughter from my lips as it dawned on me that such a thing was unviable in such a public place. Even though the street was empty. My head still feeling faint I decided – quite cleverly- to settle with _humming. _Glancing blankly at the littered pavement across of me, I began to hum the piece I always found the most soothing. The very first piece I had played on my violin as a child. _Vivaldi's Four Seasons. _– Spring! Of course, a personal favourite. Listening to the music and reciting it in my mind, I began to quietly hum it – the melody almost natural as it left my lips. I exhaled softly as I tunefully crooned the song. Of course, it was working wonders for my rapidly beating heart. There was nowhere near a better place to become lost in than good music. It was clear however though that I was enjoying my solitary concert too much for as I lowered my pace, I became aware that there was another sound overlaying my hums. Or more specifically –

Someone was humming with me.

The song stopped in my lips and I felt the insides of me brace in response to the unfamiliar noise. Retreating a few steps back into the shadows – where the streetlight at the end of the pavement could not shed light – a figure suddenly stepped out from behind the large skip just right of me.

"Sorry," The voice told me tenderly, "I _had _to. I love that composition."

A _drunk _that appreciated classical music?

Perhaps I was delusional. I did not answer but simply kept silent deciding that what worked in my household must reflect the conducts of the real world somewhat - after all, when I ignored Nadir, he would fled soon enough. I had hoped for a similar rejoinder in this situation. But then, the figure seemed to ease closer and as I stumbled back feeling my back press against the wall behind me – it became obvious that I should not have been hiding in the first place. For I knew exactly who the figure was.

_Her_, my mind breathed outwardly. It was her. The woman I had entered the bar for – it occurred to me now, rather shamelessly that I grew so disgusted at the activities inside the bar that I had forgotten the very reason I entered in the first place. It was unlikely of me – but I suppose there were a lot of things that I had done now that was unlikely of me. My eyes stared widely at her, attempting my best to absorb as much of her face as possible but found the darkness against me. I had supposed that it would be discourteous of me to stay entirely silent. I created words in my mind as my consciousness attempted not to be deflated by the idea of _her. _I attempted not to be rendered wordless like in the bar for I wanted to know her.

"It's okay." I said a lot more coldly than I had opted for.

"Oh, good."

What fortune I had! For a man corrupted with unluckiness, this had certainly been rewarding. But of course two words to her could hardly underline what it was that I had aspired to say. I had wanted to accentuate the utter beauty that she was – even against the night. How I had crossed the very street I scoffed lividly at just to meet her. My lack of experience with the opposite sex – or people in general seemed to goad my downfall as no courteous words drained out.

Only a question that I doubted would engage her interest. "Fresh air?" It was something I consistently asked Nadir - although the context was different as I asked him this when I caught him smoking tobacco. He would splutter, drop the cigarette and I would uncharacteristically treat him to a dry laugh. But I avoided this form of talking as often as I can.

Small talk – that was the word. How I despised it.

"Yes," She answered simply, as my eyes _pleaded _to see her but my body remained anchored to the darkness I found refuge in. I could make her shape out of the shadows but it was no help as this only teased my imagination. It seemed that the more I wanted to look at her - the more of my memory from that afternoon diminished leaving me with a blank canvas. _Cruel world. _

"How about you?" Her soft tone inquired.

"Similar to yourself." I murmured - realizing quite significantly that this was the first conversation I had had with another person (parting from Nadir) for a long while. For five weeks to presume the least. Of course, it was something I was hardly proud of. But I could not think of a better person to coax my inner 'busybody' than her. For she was robbing me of words without even attempting to do so.

"You work here, I presume?" Although I aspired in my deepest heart that she didn't - her reply stated otherwise.

"I – well, yes... I'm sure you can _figure _out what I do." There was a short, almost unsure chuckle.

"You dance." I said, suddenly feeling nauseous again, "For the bar?"

She took a momentary silence. I panicked instantly presuming I had said something wrong - but then she spoke, "Yes – but _only _for…I don't _do _anything _else…_"

Her tone had shifted and I was unable to decipher it for a few moments. It occurred me to that her tone was not vindictive – but irresolute. The very lines she missed out in the words she uttered then dawned on me and I found my words almost incomprehensible as they dribbled out –

"Oh – oh, don't – I wasn't _meaning_ it in that manner. I just wanted to confirm…"

The idea of her suggestion appealing to someone like me was ridiculous. I noted that my face had flushed a slight shade of red – but fortunately, it was not enough to make me light-headed again. I could already imagine what her thoughts consisted of - she probably thought I was the type to be morbidly interested in such matters. My face twisted into a form of slight apprehension. Unsure of what else one said in this situation, I opened my mouth to ask for her name when she seemed to scuttle towards the door.

"I'm sorry," She quickly dropped as she paused by the doorway, "I have to return to work now – um…thank you for the song." Since she came closer, I managed a clearer view of _her. _More specifically, her small but polite smile. Her youthful, innocent face. _Enchanting. _She could clearly see that my head had turned to watch her as she then lifted a small hand to wave and amusingly began to hum the final few notes of _Spring. _I was so taken by her that I had forgotten to check if she had hit the correct notes. In true fact, I barely noticed she even finished.

"I hope the air remains fresh for you, monsieur."

A small, abnormal curve formed at the edge of my lips as a chuckle lifted from hers.

"Goodbye." I uttered stiffly as my heart was lured to its speedy, charming beat once more.

And like that. She was gone.

A little vacant, I found myself crossing the road with the need to do something. The _need _to play my violin. I found this desire burning through me like acid - the most enthused about music I had been in a long time. And once more, it was because of _her._

* * *

><p>"Sounds like you've entranced her already, Erik...or perhaps, she has entranced <em>you<em> again?"

Nadir smiled at me as I continued my almost lonely violin playing of Vivaldi's spring. I had told him the story in hope that he would shed light on what it was about the meeting that had ruptured me in such a manner that I almost felt disoriented when she left. I took the bow and played a long note only to growl in frustration. It was the first time I had taken out my violin in months - already I regretted even pressing it the respect of my gaze.

"Ugh, why must everything discontent me today, Nadir?"

"What's wrong now?"

"This violin…"

"It's _wrong_, yes?" He laughed; I merely scowled and found myself executing a long, weary yawn. I could feel my body urging for my eyes to flicker shut and for me to settle my normally inflamed thoughts. I despised sleeping (always assumed that it was a waste of my hours) but found the indigence of rest impossible to reject. Still yawning, I put down the violin and pressed my head on the arm of my couch. I shifted and exhaled loudly.

"I despise sleep." My lips unconsciously blethered.

There was a short burst of laughter.

"Goodnight, Erik."

I looked up at Nadir as he lifted himself from the couch across me and made for the door. I could feel my exhaustion weigh on me as I grunted in response. As I was turning away from the light by the doorway, I found myself sleepily calling out into the dark once more.

"Nadir?"

"Yes?" A shadow appeared by my door as my eyes lost focus. Despite this, my lips continued as I almost vacantly shifted in my position. There was a second of silence as I slowly reigned in my constructive thoughts before switching off entirely –

"I believe _she _will become the key to my motivation to make music," I murmured as I consciously opened my tired eyes one more time, "I must – I must _have _her." The last word slipped through my lips and before I knew it I was swirling into a depth of harmonious peace. A small sigh of pleasure escaped me as I retreated into a deep slumber, _serenaded _by Mozart's piano concerto number twenty one. And for the first time in a long time, I found my dreams accompanied by something other than music.

_She is important to me._

_And I must understand why._


	3. Vivaldi La Primavera 'Spring'

**Thank you for the review! Next installment. Too much muse. /dies.**

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><p>Nadir had once told me that I was the most stubborn idiot he had ever met. I had merely corrected him in saying that being tenacious was a common genetic sprain in geniuses – <em>and <em>I was definitely not an idiot. Such foolery was something I had to face everyday with only one close companion. Although I enjoyed the fact that my conversations with the man were more-or-less endurable and_ at times_ intellectual – I knew that such isolation was something that was doing little good for me. Even so, I found that I only ever required human contact when it came to my occasional, sporadic hunger to _share _and divulge concerns. Nadir satisfied that bill quite adequately. It was not until last night – at the discovery of _bar woman _that I had offered an interest in another human being.

Despite being surrounded by them in the flushed few months of rehearsals for my operas – I always sustained an honourable distance away from people. Expectantly, the asinine chatter of citizens was a reason why I remained so repelled. There was also the matter of which I have always regarded highly as the very reason why I never felt comfortable with other individuals – and this was the matter of my _mask. _Did humanity _care _about why I wore a mask? Could humanity afford to appraise something different – to abstain from judgement until I explained why it was I wore such an atypical contrivance? No. The answer was _no._ I had always looked at it bitterly. Regarded it with hate. But now I realized merely that it was _instinct. _It was human.

And I could not prosecute them for that. It was human to despise – human to ascertain without evidence. I accepted that in the end. But despite this admittance, I still endeavoured to steer clear of anything that allowed me to be exposed publicly. It required a large amount of courage and influence (primarily from Nadir) to even prompt me out of my street. It also always took a fundamental motive – a crucial ground as to why I would waste energy and morale on travelling. Today, my raison d'être was simple and it was _her. _Although simple and uncomplicated – it was somehow, enough.

I glanced meekly out of my window and felt my heart rate begin a gradual ascension. I was here at Bar _Five_ – the bar of which I was greeted to the woman the first time. I had expressed interest in visiting this place again for there was a large chance that she must work here too. It was logical. If I contemplated it further, I opted to survey Bar five first as I also had no interest in returning to the atrocity that was Rhodos.

Leaving the car, I glanced back as Nadir slowly lowered the black tinted windows. "An hour, Erik," He said firmly, passing me his best _business _look. I nodded knowing it should be enough. I would just enter and observe – try my best to delineate what it was about this woman that seemed to _rouse _my inner maestro. For, despite all I knew about life – this circumstance confused me greatly. "Good." Nadir retorted with a small nod in return. He was excited for this prospect - I knew - for God forbid he tires of me _purring _over trivial things; equally he was also rather concerned as we were to meet theatre directors in the afternoon and I could not be late. The impotents that ran my theatre expressed great disappointment at the lack of _yield _I had provided them over the past few months and would like to discuss my _future._

Did they not hear that patience was a virtue? I chuckled coldly. If this meeting shall progress well – perhaps my compositions shall provide harvest. But thinking practically, I knew I should expect very little. For luck had never - in my thirty four years of life - opted for _me._

* * *

><p>My eyes noticed her almost the instant I had walked in. I supposed it was an endowment that I had such incisive eyesight – but I had never felt my gaze swivel so swiftly! It was almost like it had been pulled to her. I was not surprised; my eyes seemed to be the part of me that hungered for her sight the most. I had never known beauty quite as her and I remained uncertain if I had ever been as feverish for a woman like this. I had hoped not for then this would mean that the feelings that throbbed through me would be a waste. I somehow wished for the sensation – the avid desire of this chase to be <em>special. <em>To be incomprehensible. In a way, I supposed it was for even now as I sat in the back of the darkly lit bar, I could not outline what it was about her that made me feel so –

Eager. She had been wiping tables when I walked in – now that she had disappeared, I let my eyes assess the rest of the figures that inhabited the bar. There were some bodies that looked almost pinned to their seats, some that chatted quietly among themselves – the dimness of the place obstructed by inspection to be too thorough. I could not complain though for the dimness allowed for my obscurity. Something I realized pacified my nerves to sustain a clear head. This would be crucial for any observation as if I become distracted I should never be able to unearth what it was I came here to locate. The reason of why this woman was so significant; why it was that my mind believes so faithfully that there is more to her than her astounding beauty. I knew I _wanted _her, but I _must _know why.

Momentarily lost in my own silent reverie, I blinked softly as I realized that a spotlight had illuminated the stage at the front and _she _was standing there. My back straightened almost instantly as I leaned forwards, completely disoriented by how the light seemed to make her glow. Once more, I was stifled by her and my eyes were finally nourished by her grandeur. My gaze left her only to glare at the various figures that seemed to disregard her presence. I never understood why it was that real beauty was so difficult to appreciate – was it just I that saw her? She smiled shyly – very much the smile she wore when she had bid me farewell a day ago – tucked a stray brown strand of her hair behind her ear and then the music began.

I did not recognize the musical composition (I assumed that it was from the 'charts' which I did not follow) and did not identify the words. But still, I remained engrossed in her. What _surprised _me this time however was that it was not her attractiveness that retained my attention but her _voice. _The voice I had dismissed quite privately as ordinary – as average – was splendid. Her natural tone – it was harmonious and strong…almost resembled a _soprano's. _Why of course! It only made sense why she would pay commendation to classical music for she _must _be an classical artist in some form. It dawned on me now that it was not only her prettiness that had stuck to me but her voice. It was flawed – painfully so – but it was individual and fluent. The song reached its peak - its highest note and her voice met it with welcoming arms. I was unsurprisingly in awe of her once more.

And once _more_, I ask what she was doing in a place such as this one? She was a talent – gifted in her own calibre. Such a voice. Such a _face. _Serenading _fools _like the ones that sat before me? It perplexed me. I sat pensively, my nails digging into the wooden splinters of the table as the song ended and there was a silent, almost insulting response to her rendition. She seemed accustomed to this and looked to leave the stage before I, the masked man in the anonymity of the dark began to applaud loudly and methodically. Her movement stopped – and I felt my heart skip – as she lifted her head towards my direction. I breathed inwardly as humanity's impulse of '_following the sheep' _overwhelmed the room and a chorus of soft and uninterested applause accompanied mine. Smiling to thank the response, I watched as she departed the stage - instantaneously I knew what the objective of my visit was.

It was _her._ She is the key to my music. The young woman of Bar Five and Rhodos with the voice as glorious as her face.

I had to _help _her.

* * *

><p>In the end, it was her who found me first. I was sat, presuming candidly that she would appear in her uniform and hideously begin the art of wiping tables once more, when I sensed a presence behind me. I remained still, knowing that if they were regarding me they would <em>state <em>so. It never occurred to me once that it was _her. _And much to my luck it had been. I turned my head at a small angle to see her face. The words of colloquial greeting were strangled within me as she then sat on the seat at the table just beside me. I desired to regard her even with a mere 'hello' but I found my head sustaining its poise and keeping my stare fixated forwards. It was not until she spoke that it relaxed.

"Thank you. I saw you clap for me and I just thought I should say… thank you."

Her words were sweet and genuine. I felt my lips tremble as I again found the sense of being so close to her overwhelming me. Fortunately, my broken self did not show and I just nodded in response. I probably bewildered her at this point as my eyes did not turn to her as I had wanted it to. I _cursed _myself for not reacting as I should but it seemed that all it took was a stab of disappointment to return me to my nonchalant form. Her chair made a scratching noise as she stood up to leave. I reacted like a quiet, observing predator on a prey about to escape the trap. I _whipped_ around in my chair and said with a shy, quiet tone,

"We've met."

It did not dawn on me until a few seconds of silence that perhaps I had surprised her with my appearance too summarily. My gaze diminished and my eyes lost sight of her as they loosely glowered at the floor instead. I feared for the disgust on her face at my mask –_ stupid_ Erik! She must now have denoted me as some lunatic. After all, who wore masks in such daily circumstances? _Understand_, my mind pleaded as I tentatively found myself turning my chair forwards in defeat. I was only stopped when she spoke. Bewilderment instantly pounded through me in sharp bursts prompting me to shiver – _she has not run away? _– In fact, she took the seat her once more.

"Yes," I heard her say rather cheerfully – as if the apprehensive silence had not existed, "_You're _the man yesterday…from, Rhodos."

"Yes." I managed as I tried to retain the feelings that swirled in a grave mix inside of me - confusion, pleasure and _joy_. Of course the fact that I was then given the indulgence of hearing her delightful laughter did not help my already perplexed mind.

"You're not following me are you?"

I lifted my head up, eyes wide with fear (darn was I that obvious?) before it became clear that she was _joking. _Such tones always confused me. "No," I said back in a more comfortable tone as my eyes finally locked with hers. Her eyes were hazel. And as gorgeous in the dark as they were in the beam of the spotlight. "I don't believe we exchanged names…I'm Erik." I did not know whether it was customary to shake hands in this circumstance and decided it was best to cherish every moment of this rather than to dwell on such mediocre matters.

"Christine Daaé."

My inspiration had a _name _– Christine _Daaé. _She surprised me by offering a hand in introduction. I swallowed tautly as I extended a gloved hand and shook hers rather unfeelingly. The feel of her skin was warm – a stark contrast to mine. "It's a pleasure, Christine," I nodded, watching as she almost examined me in an identical manner as I assessed her – of course, I did it out of _awe _and adoration. She probably performed it out of innocuous curiosity. I noted though that she explored me through my eyes - not by my mask. The very idea that she was attempting to be polite even though she was possibly perishing from curiosity made a smile almost form at the edge of my mouth.

"You sing beautifully." I commented as she looked away modestly, a timid smile pasted on her lips.

"I try," She replied, "And so do you, Erik…I think – you have a very…um, _melodic _voice?"

My voice was unblemished I knew but still, I felt my face go hot at her compliment. She looked so comfortable with me – something I could not comprehend for I _exuded _such uncertainty. Christine – such a beautiful name. It suited her almost to the syllable. Blessed with that thought, I was suddenly hit with the concept I had not engaged her with yet. The plan I had conducted for _her. Christine._

"Christine, I – I must tell you something."

Her face changed – not negatively. It changed from pleasant to inquisitive. "Yes?" It seemed that her comfortable aura had somewhat rubbed off on me as the words that were spewing in my head were now executed without trouble.

"The tone of your voice…it is _astounding_."

"Oh – well, wow. Again, thank you…"

She blushed; I felt my chest heave for air. My words slipped without thought, "I don't believe you were _meant _for a place like this. I believe you have promise. A – a lot of it." Already I could feel the ardent fever of composing building in me – _she _is the key to my muse. My fanatical - hard to please muse. Right now I felt like I should be at my piano with _mountains _of sheet music! Oh the joy – I stared at her and realized her smile had become lopsided. Her head was tilted at an angle as she stared me with a rather – unreadable look on her face. I decided that she must be searching for clarification.

"Christine Daaé," The name slipped through my lips like honey, "I want to _help _you." Almost as soon as the sentence was uttered – she laughed. I blinked profusely unsure of what it was she found so entertaining. I shook my head to indicate that I was indeed serious, "Your talent is _squandered _here, Christine. I can _train _your voice. I – " The feverish pulsations of my phone in my back pocket indicated to me that my hour was done. And being true to my word, I had to depart. My eyes glanced at Christine one more time as she stared almost dumbfounded at me. _Oh Christine_, my mind murmured, _You probably do not realize how good you are._

How good you can be. "Please, contact me." I stood up and eloquently slid her my business card. The plea was plain in my voice as she looked up at me with a look of irresistible fascination. It was delightful and I could barely think of words I began to move towards the exit, heart hitting my ribcage like heavy drums. The final look of her face is in my memory and heart as I pushed open the door to exit.


End file.
